It’s Thursday.  It’s September 25th.  It’s the day after my (step) father’s birthday.  I received a text yesterday at 1:33 pm, that said, “Reminder, Dad’s Birthday, September 24th.”

So.  in honor of my step-dad, but REAL father, Jerry T. Dennis, here are some stories I remember about him, and a little bit of his history.

If you don’t know my dad, I compare him to SuperMan, and RoboCop.  He seriously will live through just about anything.  My dad is in a wheelchair from a car accident he had, as a result of heart attack while driving.  (They said it’s a wonder he lived.)  As a result of that accident, they had to rebuild the left side of his body.  His insurance didn’t cover it, so, he didn’t get his hip, or the metal things he needs in his leg.  About a year ago, he suffered a stroke, thus, losing most of the right side of his body.  The doctors said he would completely recover, but from his lack of motivation and depression, he did not do the excercises.  He used to tell me, “I buried my wife, and a daughter, I am alone and I’m old, I am a recovered alchoholic and drug addict,I will eat what I want and do what I want.”  My dad is stubborn as a mule. (He’s from Texas.) My dad also has small fits of dementia, probably brought on from diabetes, which can make life with him interesting. He also suffers from Hepatitis C.

My dad is funny in the fact that, with all of that going on, he knows his kids so well.  I called him yesterday to explain that I honestly thought his birthday was the 26th. To which he replied, “I know, you think that every year.”  Wow.  It’s amazing that my father is able to do that.

He is also the man who sat me down a year ago, when I started drinking again and Andrea left me and said, “Son, I don’t interfare with your life, and I let you make your own stupid decisions.  But, Andrea is the one for you.  I don’t know what you’ve done to screw this up, but I am sure you did something.  If you have any brains in you, you will straighten out and get that girl back.”

Before that, my father never once told me what he thought about any of my girlfriends.  He never once said anything about my decisions.  He simply told me he loved me regardless, and would support any decision I made.

I am starting to think my dad has always known whats best for me.  He has always known what I need to do to grow up.  My dad is…. My dad is…. I don’t have words.

When I was 10 years old, my mom got sick of my dad’s drunken stupers.  She told him if he did not quit drinking she was taking the kids and leaving.  That was a Saturday night.  The next day I woke up and my dad was gone.  We were certain that he had left us.  about 2:30 in the afternoon, my dad showed up with more life than ever.  He had all sorts of goodies he had gotten from a church.  He told us that he had quit drinking and accepted Jesus Christ into his life.  My dad has not had a drop of alcohol since. (15 years)  Looking back, that was probably my first experience with the Holy Ghost. If I only knew then.

One day, my mother and I got into a HUGE fight.  My dad grabbed me, took me to his jeep and started driving.  (Like he always did to break the tension.) In the middle of one of his long LOOOONG lectures, I inturrupted and said, “Dad, you’re an idiot.  Mom is cheating on you! She has been for a long time!  Why don’t you just leave.  She is using you! She doesn’t Love you!”

That’s when he looked at me and said something I will NEVER forget.

“Son” He always made sure I knew he considered me a son. “Son, The day I married your mother, I promised you, Adrienne, and God that I would never leave your side, I would never let you down, I would always be here for you.  I am not going to break that promise.  I love you son, that is why I am still here.”

wow.

My dad, now is weak.  My dad now needs someone to help him.  In all honesty I get annoyed.  When he calls I dread it.  I love hearing his voice, but I still kind of dread his long stories.  As he grows older, he makes a little less sense.  I can’t wait to hear the end of the conversation when he says, “I love you son.” Still reminding me that my father didn’t abandon me, just a guy with some sperm and a temper.

His ability to forgive and love unconditionally is a true example of Christ’s love.  And I guess my relationship with him sums up my relationship with God sometimes.  He is strong, has always known what’s best for me, and has always always loved me, unconditionally.  A lot of his suffering was so I didn’t have to. I dread to hear what God has to say, because I might not like it.  But I long for the end of the conversation when he says, “I love you son.”

Ten days before Andrea and I started speaking to one another, rather than just knowing one another was probably one of the toughest times of my life.  A little before the first of the year, I had decided that doping was not the way I wanted to spend my life.  So, I proceeded to lock myself in my room and sweat, shake, cry, vomit, scream, vomit some more, and just want to die in general.  On the 12th, I decided to go out to get a beer, to take the edge off.  (Ha)  I ended up running into some “friends” of mine.  One being my dealer, who was obviously really missing my daily financial contribution of about 150 bucks.  So, she decided that she would give me some “free dope”.  One rule.  There really is no such thing as free dope.  It’s just a ploy to get you hooked, either again, or for the first time.  But, I took it.

That night, a friend who had no where to live asked if she could crash at my house.  I didn’t mind, I had an extra room, so what the heck?  Right?  When we got to my house, she started wigging out.  I was saying goodbye to another friend, and as I spun around to see what her problem was, I see a 4 foot long Red Bull mirror being swung at my face.  I didn’t even have time to react.  It just hit me.  I stumbled backwords, feeling the blood running down my face.  I didn’t know if glass had caught my eye or what, so I just stumbled around.

I heard a scream, I opened my eyes, she had grabbed a broken piece of glass and had her sights set on me.  Next thing I knew, I had been stabbed in the stomach, and was being cut all over with this piece of glass.  The only thing going through my mind was my mom’s voice.  “I don’t care what happens. Never.  Ever.  EVER hit a woman.” I was trying to figure out what I could do without hitting this girl.

Finally, I was able to grab her arms. (by now, both hands had pieces of glass, covered in my blood.)  I spun her around, and she stumbled to the ground.  I immediately sat on her.  Holding her arms with my knees.  I sat there for about 20 minutes while she kicked and screamed.  Finally she fell asleep.

Looking back, I assume she was wigging out on dope.  At the time, I just thought someone wanted me dead. After she fell asleep, I got up, stumbled to my bed, still bleeding and laid down.   (It was about 3:00 am on January 13th. A friday)

That morning, I was being poked.  I woke up to see a sherrif hovering over my bed.  I immediatly realized that my room probably looked like a murder scene.  But that is not why he was there.  His mission for the day was to evict my family.  yay.  I helped move some of the breakables out. (The guys that move you out don’t pay much attention to fragile stickers.  I had learned this two evictions ago.) After an hour of helping, I had to get to work.  I got a ride in, and when I got there, my boss handed me my last check, and told me I couldn’t work there anymore, and I that I needed to get help.  wow.  I knew today was not going to be a good day.  I got a ride back to my [former] house.  I got my dad.  I loaded him, and his wheelchair and my brother up, took them to a pay by the night, extended stay hotel.  I paid for two weeks, and I left.

With the rest of my money I went out, bought a mass quantity of dope, and alcohol.  Thinking back, I don’t believe I had intended to live past that night.  I went into the bathroom at the bar and did the entire bag of dope.  I paid the bartender, and stumbled out the door.  I walked up highway 78 a couple of miles and stumbled into the woods.  Laid down, and went to sleep.  I don’t know how long I was “asleep” but something woke me up, and I had an urge to live.  I walked to a gas station, stole a beanie hat, walked around back, to an outdoor bathroom, locked the door, and curled up.  That is where I spend the rest of my night.  That is also where I spent the next few nights, without drugs.  Without anything but time to think.  That, to me, was rock bottom.

I went back to my dad’s hotel room.  He let me crash on the floor.  The day before my birthday I went out, just for beer.  Still sobering up.  And got arrested for driving under the influence. When I got out of jail, I got on my dad’s laptop, got online, and sure enough, the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth was online.  I chatted her.  She informed me that she was supposed to be at my surprise party, that was called off, because I was in jail.  We haven’t gone but a few days without talking since that day.  A few months after starting to talk to her, I accepted Jesus Christ into my heart.  My life has NEVER been the same.

I count my sober day as January 13th.  That was the last day I ever did drugs.  Ever.  It took me a while to realize alcohol was also a problem, but I realized it.  Thank God!

I look back at these days, and just can’t believe it.  Two days ago, Andrea and I were kind of freaking out about having to take money out of our savings.  OUR SAVINGS!  Praise God that we have a SAVINGS!  Two or three years ago that was non existent!  I am a completely different person and there is no one to thank for that but Jesus Christ!   Really, it’s….. it’s…… beyond words.

Thank You God!

I believe God pulled me

When I was a child, my lisp was so severe, they projected only 35 percent of all people could understand me.  How is that for frustrating.  On top of it all, I got picked on for it.  Years and years of speech therapy, almost completely fixed it. 

So what happened?  Well.  Here goes the story.  

I can go ahead and say that through the years of high school, odds are good my lisp slipped a little bit. There is a chance between tongue piercings and just not caring to try, my mouth got a little lazy.  But, my lisp was never very noticeable unless you were listening for it. Until that night.  

I believe it was a Monday.  A bunch of people and I had gone out after a long night of serving tables.  We were all stressed, and ready to drink.  Sounded like a fine idea.  I won’t go into details of the night, because i don’t believe the details are relevant, but I will say that later in the evening, I blacked out.  What happened from there is non existent in my mind, but happened non-the-less.

Around 4:30 in the morning a friend asked me to take them home.  I said yes, and I started driving.  I don’t know for the life of me why, but we were on I-20.  I guess that is the time I started getting tired.  The police believe that I dozed off.  They said that I probably fell asleep, and my foot pressed harder on the gas.  They said they think my hand probably dropped, but turned the wheel to the left.  They said I was lucky to live. They said, at around 70-80 MPH the car hit the Median.  They said, the car immediately shot to the right and off of the highway.  They said that the jaws of life had to get me out of that car.  When I woke up at the hospital the next morning, I had no clue what was going on.  It didn’t take me long to figure out, someone had gotten us into a car accident. (Had no clue it was me!) It took me even less time to realize, I did not have a tongue.  Shortly after I woke up, a plastic surgeon was able to come and reattach my tongue.  I don’t remember how many stitches it took, but it was a lot.  I do remember solid foods was not possible for about five weeks, and I remember re learning how to talk was very difficult, and my S’s are and never will be the same.  

I still pray about that night, and thank God I did not kill anyone.  I still thank God that he carried me through that.  I lived through an accident that should have killed me.  I lived through it!  I don’t always know why, and it takes a lot of meditation for me to realize that I am obviously here for a reason.  The exact reason?  I don’t know, but to glorify God is definitely on the agenda.   I am thankful to be alive, and I consider every breath I take a blessing now.  It took me a few years after that to really get it, but I get it.  and now I realize, life is a beautiful gift.  A gift I have been given time and time again.  Let me ask you.  

How great IS our God!?